


Halloween Spirits

by alexdamien



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Halloween, M/M, MiloShipFest, PWP, Sexy Costumes, Sort Of, ghostly possession, well I tried to have a plot but let's be real here, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexdamien/pseuds/alexdamien
Summary: Camus and Milo go to a halloween party at a haunted house. What could go wrong? Nothing, everything goes terribly, terribly right.





	Halloween Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> The previous Halloween party referenced in the fic is the one that happens on my fic "I just realized..." which you could read before this one, or not. It's up to you and I think you don't really miss anything from not reading that one, just keep in mind that there was a previous party that ended up in a horrible fire and surprise kisses.

This year, Camus had kept a close eye to exactly when Halloween came, and had even tried to keep updated on what Aphrodite was planning for this year's Halloween party. This last thing had proved more difficult than he had expected, since Aphrodite refused to tell him anything other than "It will be a terrifying surprise!". Camus believed him completely, and the thought of all the dark ideas Aphrodite could use kept him up at night, glaring at the ceiling. He could do with a party that included no one being on fire, but at this point, he wouldn't rule that out.

"Still awake?" asked Milo, rolling around to press himself against Camus. "Something bothering you?"

“Hmmm, just…thinking. Things I have to do, and so on…,” lied Camus, who didn’t want Milo to know just how much Camus was hoping for a nice, simple Halloween party. Something enjoyable where they spent a nice time together with the others.

He didn’t particularly care for the actual Halloween event, but his mind kept returning to that last party, almost exactly one year ago. To that moment when Milo had casually thrown his arm around Camus’ shoulders, and to Camus it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to just turn and kiss him.

Milo pressed his hand over Camus’ naked chest, and suddenly Camus forgot everything about the party, and remembered the fact that they were both completely naked.

“Seriously?” asked Milo. “You’re going through your to do list right after sex?”

Camus felt his face heating up. “You’ve been asleep for hours!” hissed Camus.

Milo rolled over him, sitting on top of Camus. “And you haven’t. Which means that you clearly aren’t tired enough,” he said, settling his ass right over Camus’ cock.

“I-It’s not…,” protested Camus, but Milo lowered himself and kissed him into silence.

Camus relaxed into the kiss, his own hands moving to grab at Milo’s thighs. They separated from the kiss with a sigh. Camus threw his head back, and Milo kissed a path down Camus’ neck, pausing on the nook of his shoulder to give a light bite. Camus gasped, quickly growing to full hardness. He felt his face flushing with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbled, yet his hands strayed up towards Milo’s ass. His heart started racing, and it took all of his self control to not throw Milo down on the bed and take control.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘Thanks for riding me all night Milo’,” he said with a smirk, reaching behind himself to position Camus’ cock at his entrance.

Camus lifted his eyebrows at that, and knew that his face had turned completely red. “W-wait, are you-?” tried to say Camus

Camus’ cock slid into Milo’s hole, still slick from the last time Camus had been inside him. Milo moaned as he sank down on him. Camus gasped at the feeling of tightness and heat. He buckled his hips up into Milo, who laughed at it.

“Looks like you needed another round,” he said, his voice a heady whisper. Against the light of the waxing moon filtering from the window, Milo’s eyes shone with a depth that mesmerized Camus. He was so beautiful that Camus’ heart jumped at the sight of him. Milo laughed at him. “What’s that? Cat’s got your tongue? Because the scorpion got something else,” he said, and started bouncing on his lap, holding on to Camus’ shoulders for leverage.

Camus groaned. “Do you really have to make awful jokes right now?” he asked, grabbing a firmer hold of Milo’s hips and lifting his hips to meet his thrusts.

Milo gave a strangled gasp and tightened around Camus. He lowered his head to press his forehead against Camus.

“Fuck, yes, there,” he mumbled, licking his lips. “Fuck, how are you so good?”

Camus smirked, loving how easily he could make Milo lose himself. He decided to just go for it, and pushed himself up, grabbing Milo and rolling over so he was underneath him on the bed.

“I think it’s you who needs another round,” said Camus, decided to push Milo to the edge and keep seeing that spark of unbridled desire in his eyes.

“Finally snapped out of it, uh?” quipped Milo, smirking up at him from among the halo of blue hair around his head. He wrapped his legs around Camus, pulling him deeper.

Camus moaned, feeling himself engulfed even more. He grabbed Milo’s hips and  started thrusting, aligning himself in a way he knew he would hit his prostate every time.

Milo cried out, reaching to hold on to Camus, his nails scratching Camus’ back.

Camus felt his body enveloped in fire and gasped as the pleasure mounted as he thrusted. He tried to focus on aiming to his Milo’s prostate with every thrust, but he quickly lost control. Milo keened, pulling him closer, mumbling desperate nonsense, begging… _demanding_ more.

Camus felt his self control slipping as he wanted more himself. Wanted more of the heat, more of Milo’s desperate voice.

“Fuck, Cam-Camus, more…yes, more…,” gasped Milo, and moaned, throwing his head backwards.

Camus kissed his exposed throat, making Milo mewl in pleasure. Camus knew he wouldn’t last long. Not with the sounds Milo was making. Not with the feeling of his heated skin as he clung to him, and the feeling of being buried in him.

Camus grabbed Milo’s cock and pumped, reveling in the keening noise that escaped from Milo’s mouth. It took no time for Milo to shudder and cry out as his orgasm hit him in a rush and he tightened around Camus, bringing him over the edge along with him.

Camus could only roll to the side to lay next to Milo as they both panted for a few moments, spent and exhausted.

“Yes,” sighed Milo. “A second round was a great idea. Next time you have your bullshit insomnia, I’m just rolling around and riding you.”

Camus turned his head away, embarrassed to have Milo see how he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Instead, he just reached out and grabbed Milo’s hand, entwining their fingers together.

* * *

 

Since Milo wanted them to go to the party as a vampire and a werewolf again, Camus had thought he could just use the last costume again. After all, the only partially burnt costume had been Milo’s, which had gone from “sexy werewolf” to “burnt patches of fur covering strategic places” by the end of the night.

But instead, Milo had appeared with their corresponding costumes that afternoon and forced it upon Camus before the Aquarius Saint could say anything about it.

Camus, desperately hoping for a simple and uneventful evening, swallowed all his complains and went to get dressed. Too late, he realized the costume included a pair of tiny fangs that, he supposed, he was meant to put on. He glared at them, and wondered if it would be worth it to raise an issue over this.

Milo knocked on the door and then let himself in. “You ready? We’re going to be late at this rate,” he said, sauntering inside.

Camus’ eyes went from the pair of furry ears on Milo’s head, down to the patches of fur covering his chest (he did a double take at that), and lower still, to the furry and very short shorts he wore, which let him see most of Milo’s toned legs. He tried to say something, but found himself unable to speak from a mix of shock, disbelief, and outrage coursing through his body.

“You don’t know how to put on the fangs, do you? Come on, I’ll help you. Hyoga will be here any minute,” said Milo, walking up to Camus and took the fangs from him. He applied some sort of glue to them and held Camus’ face, pressing his thumb to the edge of his lips. “Open up,” he said.

Camus blinked and obeyed. Had Milo’s voice sounded husky then? Was he imagining things now? He looked off to the side to try to stop his eyes from drifting down Milo’s body.

“Don’t move,” said Milo, pressing the first fang against Camus’ teeth. Camus tried to not move, and reached out to hold on to Milo, but his hands fell on Milo’s exposed midriff and That Would Not Do. He didn’t need to deal with an erection Right Now, but Milo was making that very difficult.

“Ee-Lo,” he tried to speak, but Milo pushed his thumb into his mouth, forcing him to keep his mouth open. Camus lowered his hands, trying to touch something that wasn’t skin, but as soon as he touched the furry shorts he realized that they really were too short. Any lower and he would be touching something else.

“I’m almost done,” he grumbled, pressing the other fang. “Stop moving.”

Milo took a half step forward, checking the fangs, and his leg rubbed between Camus’ legs.

“There, it would have been faster if you weren’t groping me though,” said Milo with a knowing smirk, and suddenly everything dawned on Camus. He had been so focused on not being affected by Milo that he had missed the fact that that had been the other’s actual objective. He let his hands slide down, until he grabbed Milo’s ass fully, pulling him closer until they were flushed together. Milo gave him a wicked smirk and embraced him

"is it really groping when you're pressed up against me like this? Even your leg seems to have a plan of it's own," said Camus.

Milo rubbed his thigh against Camus' cock some more, feeling it harden.

"Naive of you to think every part of me isn't in on it," he said, tangling his fingers on Camus' hair and pulling him into a kiss.

Camus let himself be led and melted into the kiss, losing himself in the feeling of Milo's warm lips, in the heat of his mouth, and he couldn't stop himself from moaning when he felt Milo's tongue pressing against his own. Milo wrapped a leg around Camus, rubbing himself more against him, craving more friction.

The door opened.

"I'm here, sorry for the--ack!" cried Hyoga, covering his eyes.

Camus let go of Milo, who tried to grab on to him as he fell backwards, bringing them both crashing down on the floor in a tangle.

"Sorry, sorry," said Hyoga, covering his face and blushing redder than he'd ever been. "I forget I have to knock now."

"It's fine, kiddo, Camus tends to be very inopportune too, it's a family thing."

Camus grumbled in annoyance and covered Milo's mouth.

"Please wait in the car Hyoga," he said, with as much ice in his voice as he could muster.

Hyoga scurried back out. "And you," he said to Milo lying underneath him. "Need to put on more clothes, or we'll have another incident before the night is over."

Milo raised an eyebrow at that, his lips curling into a smirk.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

* * *

 

Milo ended up putting on a flannel shirt and thigh high boots, which in Camus' eyes were not that much of an improvement, but he still decided to call it a victory of sorts. But he still sat on the back while Hyoga drove and explained all the details of how to drive to Milo.

"Do you have any questions Camus?" asked Hyoga.

"Yes, why do I have to learn how to drive too? I don't care, and if Milo learns that'll be enough."

"You said the same thing about cell phones," said Milo, rolling his eyes at Camus' refusal to learn.

Camus grumbled but said nothing more. He was determined to have a good time and by hell, he was going to have it.

Hyoga left them at the town on his way to meet the other bronze saints for their own party.

"Please give Athena our best regards," said Camus to Hyoga still in the car.

"And all the bottles of vodka," said Camus, giving Hyoga a wink.

"Where did you ever get all of those?" asked Hyoga.

"Death Mask sucks at poker, but he keeps wanting to play," said Milo with a shrug.

Hyoga gave a small eyeroll, but laughed anyway.

"I'll make sure to give her everything," he said and sped off.

"You know," said Milo with a thoughtful tone. "He makes some of your very same expressions. We were meant only to train them as saints but... You did a good job raising him. He's turned into a great man."

Camus felt a strange warmth in his chest that surprised him, and he felt his cheeks warming. He cleared his throat and turned away from Milo, towards the entrance of the house.

"It is normal that students take after their teachers, especially after so many years," he said.

Milo grabbed his hand, rubbing his thumb over Camus' skin.

"Sure, sure," said Milo, and they entered the great house together.

They climbed a few steps and came upon a great and old wooden double door.

"Feels like a vampire movie," muttered Milo, looking around at the old age reflecting in the old floorboards and crumbling walls.

The doors opened to reveal Aphrodite dressed as a much fancier vampire than Camus.

"Thank you!" he said, a dreamy look in his face. "I worked so hard on the ambience. I actually wanted to have the party on a castle, but Shura said it wouldn't fit in the budget."

"Dude, we could have had it in the karaoke bar near the Sanctuary," said Milo.

Aphrodite gave them a dismissive look.

"Death Mask said the same thing, but apparently we've been banned from every single bar in that town since the little issue with the fire last time."

"So you just spent the whole budget on renting a huge mansion?" asked Camus as they followed him inside.

Aphrodite shrugged. "Actually, haunted mansions are pretty cheap."

Camus felt an icy dread go down his back.

"Haunted?"

"There are supposedly ghosts in here," said Aphrodite with a shrug. "I told Death Mask to handle them if he saw any."

"Ghosts?" he asked.

Camus felt a cold dread wash down his back at the thought of ghosts staring at them from the dark corners as they walked towards one of the halls. He suddenly felt observed and tense.

Milo pressed held his hand tighter for a moment.

"You're still afraid of ghosts?" he asked with an amused expression. "Come on. We've been dead like, a couple times. Hell, you were a ghost once!"

Camus rubbed at his temple. He could feel a headache coming, and the stuffy costume and the flickering candlelight causing the shadows to dance over the walls weren't helping.

"I was never a ghost. We had bodies of our own when Hades resurrected us. Ghosts don't have bodies. They're just... Floating around being invisible and nosy," said Camus.

They found the others in the main hall, which had more lights than the others, and soft classic music playing.

"This is pretty calm-" started Camus.

"Boring," interrupted Milo, letting go of him.

"It's Mu's turn to choose the music," said Aphrodite, handing them a glass of wine and a shot of whiskey. Camus stared at the glasses in his hands and figured it wouldn't be Mu's turn for much longer.

Milo, proving his theory right, took the shot and gave the glass back to Aphrodite.

"I'm gonna find him and get him to put on better music," he said and walked away looking for Mu.

Camus sighed. The doorbell rang, sending the sound of creepy tinkling bells echoing all over the house.

"Those must be the twins. Kanon called asking for directions just before you guys arrived."

"Kanon is coming?" asked Camus, not even bothering to hide his disgust.

Aphrodite sighed and rolled his eyes. "Try to behave, will you?"

Camus gritted his teeth. Had he known Kanon was coming... He probably would have still come to the party, since Milo would have probably dragged him along anyway. But he would have been in a bad mood from the start. Just on principle.

Trying to avoid the brothers, he walked out of the room, looking to hide in the kitchen. Instead he came into a long hall with several doors along it. The walls had candelabras on them, but each had only a single candle with weak flames on them. Camus kept walking, the sounds of conversation and soft music fading behind him.

"You're moving the glass!"

"No I'm not!"

Said voices from behind one of the doors. Camus realized immediately that they were Aioros and Death Mask. He reached out for the handle, but it opened before he could grab it.

"You keep that going, I'm-, Oh, hey Camus," said Aioria, walking out of the room. Behind him in the darkened room sat Aioros and Death Mask at a table with a ouija board.

"What on earth are you guys doing?" asked Camus.

Aioria shrugged. "You'd think as gold saints we would have better ways of dealing with ghosts, but..."

"These are different, ok? They've been dead a while!" cried Death Mask.

"You want to try it Camus?" asked Aioros with a nonchalant smile in his face. "It's actually kind of fun."

Camus' blood ran just a few degrees colder.

"No, thank you," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I was actually looking for the kitchen."

"It's over here, come," said Aioria, closing the door behind him and leading him down a couple of twisting hallways until they reached the kitchen, where Shaka stood in front of an old oven, one hand making a mudra and the other holding a wine glass. His costume seemed to consist of devil horns and a red suit. Camus figured it must have been Mu’s idea.

"The ouija doesn't look like it's working," said Aioria, grabbing a bowl of chips from the table.

"I told Death Mask it wouldn't," said Shaka. He set his glass on the table and grabbed some oven mits to pull out a tray of biscuits from the oven. "The spirits in this house have lost much of their attachments to this world. Most are only holding back because of unsatisfied desires that tormented them in life."

Camus listened on with growing disgust, wishing he was back in the main room and dealing with Kanon. At least Kanon had a body that he could punch in the face. Not like ghosts. He couldn't punch or freeze or basically do anything to ghosts, which was unnerving in a way that bothered him.

"Will they be a nuisance?" asked Aioria, through a mouthful of chips.

Shaka held the biscuits before Camus.

"Can you cool these off for me?" he asked, then turned back to Aioria. "Unlikely. Their presence might heighten certain attachments or passions amongst us, but... Well, I'd think at this point it was unrealistic to expect the evening to end without a fist fight or a fire."

Aioria thought about it for a moment, still eating, then he shrugged and nodded.

Camus focused on cooling the biscuits and not think about ghosts going around Whispering 'Punch him in the face. You can totally do it." on everyone's ear.

"That'll be enough Camus, thank you," said Shaka, taking the tray away from him. "I want them cold, not frozen."

Camus grunted in a vaguely assenting way. He didn't even feel like chatting at this point, and was already making plans for Milo and him to skip next year's party and just go off somewhere together. Somewhere without ghosts, or fires, or the inevitable all out brawl that Camus was sure would be coming any moment now.

Shaka put a couple bowls of snacks in Camus' hands.

"Can you help me bring these to the living room? Mu was supposed to be back to help me. I wonder where he went..." said Shaka.

Camus, pretending that he had no idea that things were starting to get out of hand, grabbed the bowls and followed Shaka back to the living room.

Most of them were already there. Surprisingly even Mu, his calming-elevator-music playlist still playing from the speakers around the room. Camus frowned when he saw no sign of Milo around.

"Where were you?" Shaka asked Mu.

Mu's placid expression turned into a frown.

"Sorry, Milo stopped me. He started to complain about the music and saying it was boring. But he got distracted by something upstairs I think. I didn't stay to find out, you know Milo."

Camus knew Milo. He knew him very well. Well enough to know he would not have relented on changing the music for something trivial. He left the bowls on the table and went in search of him.

He remembered the staircase from the entrance, and made his way there with decisive steps. Many of the candles had been blown out by the drafts that blew to and fro within the old house. It was a strange cold that this wind blew, unlike the cold he was used to. This one had a whispering feeling to it. It hissed at it flowed through the rotten wood of the walls, bringing a scent of oldness with it. Like old books, and old stuffy rooms, and graveyard earth. It brought back the memories of that night when he had been awoken back into life with the body that hades had given them. It had certainly been one thing to accept a deal in the underworld, hoping to two time the God of death. And another entirely to wake up in your own tomb, the scent of graveyard earth filling his nose, clinging to his skin, to his hair, to every drop of the blood flowing through his fake, time limited body.

He shook his head, clearing the memories of his head, and finished climbing the steps to the next floor. He looked on at the hallway extending before him and noticed a single door open at the end. It creaked open just a little more, as if making sure he had seen it.

"Milo? Are you there?" he called out. The draft in the room intensified.

He heard a gasp, and the door at the end of the hall slammed shut, but Camus was already running. Milo's voice had been burned into his mind, and he knew immediately it was him.

He opened the door and found Milo standing next to a bedside table, holding the wine glass in his limp grasp, the wine spilling on the ancient floorboards.

"Milo? Are you alright?" he asked, walking up to him, pulling him around to look at his face.

Milo jolted, as if surprised to see him, but otherwise Camus could see nothing wrong with him.

"What are you doing here alone?" he asked, combing back Milo's hair with his fingers. "I got worried when you disappeared like that. Come on, let's go back down. I can't stand Saga and Kanon when you're there, much less alone."

He grabbed Milo's wrist, turned towards the door and pulled him along.

Milo pulled his wrist away from Camus' hand.

Camus whirled around, and found Milo smirking at him. He threw the empty wine glass away, letting it shatter against the floor.

"No," said Milo, taking a step towards him and wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him closer and pressing their bodies together. "Let's stay here. I want you so bad," he said with a sigh.

Camus' heart jumped at those words, and he could feel his whole face heating.

"W-what? I-uhm... Are you serious? Here? Milo, I'm not having sex in some old haunted house!" hissed Camus. He was more than ready to jump Milo ever since he put on that ridiculous costume, but he was NOT having sex in a place that had any kind of ghosts, and that was final. Even if Milo's almost-naked body felt so good pressed against his, and the tips of Milo's fingers as they snuck under the shirt to caress the skin behind his neck awoke parts of his body that he didn't want up Right Now.

Milo hummed and pressed a leg between Camus' legs, rubbing against the growing tent in his pants.

"Who cares? I want you. I want you now," whined Milo, pressing himself even more against him.

Camus gasped and tried to step backwards away from him but edge of the bed hit against his legs and they tumbled down on it together.

Milo laughed, pushing himself up over Camus and tracing his hand over Camus' chest.

"You look so hot like this," he said, licking his lips.

Camus felt his face heating up. What did he mean? Camus was covered almost head to toe. The one with the sexy costume was Milo. Camus swallowed when he saw him sit on top of him, the moonlight from the window highlighting the tanned skin from his midriff and the bulge in his shorts. There was something going on with him. Had there been anything weird mixed in their drinks? He would definitely not put it beyond Aphrodite to do something like that just to mess with them.

But he still wasn't going to have sex in a haunted house, right? Right? Yet he couldn't help himself from placing his hands on Milo's toned thighs, feeling the heated skin between the boots and the shorts. Suddenly having asked him to wear more clothes felt like one of the dumbest things he'd done.

"The others might hear us," whined Camus, trying desperately to convince both Milo and himself to stop.

Milo fidgeted for a moment with the bow of Camus' shirt, before drawing scarlet needle and tearing the front of the shirt to shreds.

"So what? I only care about you, " whispered Milo in a low voice that Camus found equal amounts seductive and alarming. So much so, that he barely noticed his shirt being gone.

Scarlet needle disappeared from Milo's hands in a sparkle of red embers and he leaned down to kiss Camus' neck, then lower to his collarbone, and lower down to his chest, kissing his way to one nipple before sucking on it.

Camus gasped, his hips bucking, his body escaping his control.

Milo moaned on top of him, rubbing against him more and kissing his way lower and lower until he reached Camus' belly button, and the tips of his fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin above the line of his pants.

Camus' thoughts swirled around his head, his mind unable to focus on anything other than Milo’s weight and his breath over his skin and fuck, he really was going to have sex in a damned haunted house, wasn’t he? The place probably had a bunch of ghosts roaming around and he was not going to lift a finger to stop Milo. Well, that wasn’t much of a surprise, considering he had basically no self control around Milo, and-

Milo ran his tongue up the length of his cock and Camus couldn’t stop himself from crying out.

“Milo! Wha-aaahhh!” cried Camus, grabbing fistfuls of Milo’s blue hair as Milo took in as much of his cock into his mouth and started sucking with the same desperation he had shown until then.

He noticed how loud his voice was and let go of Milo’s hair with one hand to cover his mouth.

Milo bobbed his head and sucked harder, holding on to the base of his cock with one hand while the other pressed a slick finger to Camus’ hole. Camus’ eyes rolled backwards in his head and he pulled at his own hair for a moment.

“Fuck, Milo, fuck-,“ he mumbled, unaware of exactly what he was even saying. He had no idea where Milo had been carrying the lube (especially considering the size of his shorts) but he still gave a desperate thanks to the powers that be that Milo always carried some around.

Camus moaned, shaking his head. The pleasure was too much, and any idea of stopping had already left his mind long ago. He gasped as Milo added a second finger as he swirled his tongue around the head of his cock and then took him as deep as he could again. Fuck, Milo was always so good, but right now he was unreal. Milo added a third finger, sucking harder. Camus gasped for breath and whined, trying not to cry out in pleasure.

“That’s…enough,” he gasped, wanting Milo to just get inside him already, when Milo’s fingers pressed against his prostate and Camus could only let go of him completely to cover his mouth with both hands to stifle his cries, desperate for more, and yet terrified by the knowledge that the others would _definitely_ hear him.

Milo stopped and lifted his head, giving a final lick to the head of Camus’ cock with a satisfied smirk in his lips. He settled himself between Camus’ legs and rubbed a lubed hand over his cock. The sight of Milo trembling in pleasure made Camus moan, and he pulled him closer with his legs.

“Come on,” he grunted, wanting to feel him already. Hell only knew why Milo was so horny though.

Shaka’s words suddenly echoed in his mind. _‘Their presence might heighten certain attachments or passions among us_ _’_

Milo pushed inside him and they both cried out in pleasure. Camus tried to cover his mouth but Milo grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands above his head.

“No. I want to hear you,” he said with a needy desperation to his voice that suddenly raised alarms on the back of Camus’ head.

 _Passions_ _…passions_ _…_

Camus looked up, trying to focus on Milo’s face even as he started thrusting inside him, and he noticed a strange darkness to his eyes. There had always been a dark edge to the blue of his eyes, as if looking at them he was staring at depths that whispered of unknown dangers. But this darkness seemed different. More superficial and foreign. He looked strangely unfocused, drunk somehow and yet…not.

“M-milo…,” he gasped.

“Aaah, you’re so hot,” said Milo, thrusting harder. His next thrust hit Camus’ prostate and Camus cried out. He was so close, and Milo was so hot, but something…something wasn’t right. But gods, he was so close and now Milo hit that spot inside him with nearly every thrust and there was a war in his mind.

“Milo, please…,” he whined, looking at him to try and figure out what was happening, while at the same time pulling him deeper inside with his legs.

Milo gasped and let go of Camus. He covered his face and shook his head for a moment, before staying still. When he uncovered his face, he looked confused and dazed, but the strange lack of focus and foreign darkness to his eyes was gone.

“W-what…what the hell happened?”

Camus took several deep breaths to calm himself before speaking. “Are you ok? D-do you know where you are?”

Milo looked down at where he was still inside Camus, and scoffed out a laugh. “I think I’m pretty sure about that,” he said. “I just…I mean, we were having sex but it…felt like a dream to me…”

“But Are You Ok?” asked Camus through gritted teeth.

"Yes! Yes! I'm fine!" said Milo.

Camus let go of him. "Good. Then keep going," he said.

"B-but are you-?"

"Milo I am SO close, and I swear if you don't keep going we won't be having sex for the rest of the year."

Milo gave him a knowing smirk, but said nothing and just grabbed Camus' hips, positioning himself again.

"As you wish," he said with a wink, and thrusted. He moaned and closed his eyes, feeling Camus tightening around him. "Fuck, I wanted... I wanted to look cool but you feel so good."

Camus had a lot of things to say. This is not the time to think about looking cool! Focus already! What the hell are you thinking of?? The words flashed across his mind, yet none escaped his mouth. They vanished as he saw Milo's face lost in pleasure, his thrust becoming erratic.

Milo grabbed Camus cock, pumping along with his thrusts, and Camus moaned loudly, grasping desperately at the bedspread for something to hold on to as the tension rose in his body. He could hear his own voice panting, repeating Milo's name, but all he could focus on was Milo deep inside him, hitting that spot with every thrust.

Camus cried out Milo's name when he came, feeling him spill inside him. Camus closed his eyes, recovering from his orgasm, and felt Milo slip out of him and lay down on the bed next to him.

They stayed in silence for a few moments, just breathing as they came down from their orgasms.

Milo spoke first.

"That was amazing," he said, turning to lay on his side and scooting closer to Camus.

Camus agreed, but that was not the point now. He turned to look at Milo and pushed his blue hair away from his eyes, trying to see his face clearly against the pale light from the moon filtering through the curtains.

Someone knocked on the door and Camus' blood ran cold. He sat up, trying to cover himself and finding both his shirt and pants in shreds. He glared at Milo.

“Do you still need an exorcism?” asked Shaka from the other side of the door.

“Exorcism?” asked Milo in a whisper.

Camus, realizing all of his worst nightmares had become true (along with some that he hadn’t even been able to imagine), took a deep breath.

“No, I think we’re fine now,” he called to Shaka. “Thank you for your _timely_ assistance,” he muttered.

“I wanted to help, but I thought my presence would be inappropriate,” said Shaka, with the fakest concern in his voice. Along with him, Camus could hear Mu snickering.

“Your presence right now is very inappropriate!” yelled Camus.

“We’ll leave you then, careful on the way out. You missed most of the fight,” said Shaka and left.

“Fight?” asked Milo. They heard a couple bottles being smashed on the floor below.

“I’ll explain it later. Why did you have to tear apart my pants too?” asked Camus.

Milo’s face turned completely red and he covered hid it behind his hands.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I have no idea what came over me. I just…I don’t know. I thought I saw something move up here so I investigated and found the room and…uhmm, I just thought that it would be cool to do it here…But then I couldn’t stop thinking about it! Aphrodite must have put something in my drink because I’ve never been so…so…”

“Horny?”

“I was trying not to be so explicit, but yeah. Shit, I’ve never felt so damn horny. And then you appeared and I felt like I needed you so much. Like I had to have sex with you immediately and nothing else mattered. It was like…Like I was caught in a dream, sort of…When you said no it felt like I couldn’t stop…Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Camus saw his eyes beginning to water as he remembered what he had done.

Camus sat down on the bed next to him and gave him a quick kiss. “Of course not. Was that why you stopped? Because you thought you’d hurt me?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure how... My thoughts were a mess, but suddenly I looked at you and you were not into it? Like, not like when you say _‘no Milo, we shouldn_ _’t_ _’_ but still grab my ass,” said Milo.

Camus pinched his cheek. “Dummy,” he said.

“But back then you looked…really not fully into it, and I was so scared I’d hurt you, I had to stop and I felt like someone had dumped a bucket of water over me.”

Camus pushed some errant locks of hair away from Milo’s face. “You didn’t hurt me,” he told him, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Then he stood up and took out his phone from one of the pockets in his still intact jacket. “I’m going to send a message to Hyoga and see if he can come get us. One of us really has to learn how to drive soon, and it’s probably going to be you because I hate those machines.”

Camus sent the message, and noticed Milo hadn’t said anything. He looked away from his phone and noticed Milo hadn’t even moved.

“Are you alright?” asked Camus, trying to look him in the face. “Maybe Shaka should take a look at you.”

Milo shook his head. “No, I’m fine I just…Look, I know that I have a uhmm…That I like to do it more than you, and I think you sometimes like to indulge me even if you don’t really-“

“What? Are you worried that I didn’t really want to have sex with you?” asked Camus.

Milo didn’t answer, but he refused to look at Camus’ face.

Camus sat down next to him. “For the good of our relationship, I’m going to say something. I’m going to say it once, and then we will forget I ever said it. Ever, you understand?” he said. Then he took a deep breath. “I’m not stupid. I knew there was something wrong from the start. But I wanted you so much, I let you keep going. Only when I thought that you might not be fully yourself did I seriously consider stopping. And yet…I couldn’t.”

“Not fully me? So…,” it took a few moments for the pieces to fall in order on Milo’s head. “I was possessed! That’s why Shaka said we needed an exorcism! Wow, it doesn’t feel like in the movies…”

“Well, no more worr-“

“And you knew it! You had sex with a ghost!”

That did it in Camus’ mind. He grabbed a hold of Milo’s hair. “Say that again and see if you get any for what’s left of the year.”

Milo snickered and grabbed Camus’ waist. “Really? You couldn’t refuse ghost possessed me. How are you gonna keep that up for two months?”

“I’ll encase myself in a block of ice if need be,” said Camus, pushing him away and looking around the room for something he could use to cover himself.

“I heard Shun knows how to get through that!”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this marks the third time that silly sexy costumes have made an appearance in a fic of mine (within this fandom) and I honestly don’t even want to apologize for that because I love to feature them in my stories so much. I mean, they’re cool because you can make all sort of jokes and silly scenes with them, but also get the option for sexy scenes, which is as much of a range of options as I like to have at all times.
> 
> Anyways, here are a couple final comments:
> 
> I love the idea of the golden saints not knowing how to use technology such as to drive and so on. In fact, I would love to read a fic where Hyoga tries to teach Camus how to drive and it all goes Very Wrong, Very Fast and then Camus is forever banned from trying to drive anything ever.
> 
> Anyway, remember kids: Don’t have sex in haunted houses. You want to get possessed? Because that’s how you get possessed.


End file.
